


and say that your love's for me

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-28
Updated: 2008-07-28
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: the (early early early) morning after the night in.





	

  
It's Bad For Me  
Rosemary Clooney

Oh it's bad for me it's bad for me  
this knowledge that you're going mad for me  
I feel certain my friends would be glad for me  
but it's bad for me

It's so good for you so new for you  
to see someone in such a stew for you  
and when I say I'd do all you could for you  
it's so good for you it's bad for you

I felt till you whispered to me  
completely left on the shelf  
but since you started to woo me  
I'm just crazy about myself

it's a boon for you a break for you  
to hear that my heart's on the make for you  
yet no matter however appealing  
I still have a feeling it's bad for me

  
“You’re leaving.”

The words, mushy through a sleep-warmed mouth, are quiet, direct, a precious memory, something to be remembered after all the mayhem. Jack smiles to himself and turns around, leaning across Ianto’s body to kiss him on the forehead.

“No, I’m not. Go back to sleep.” Ianto sighs contently and stretches in the sheets, rolling over.

“Don’t go far,” he mumbles into the pillow and Jack strokes over his arm once before stepping out through the French doors onto the balcony, into the night air. After his most recent journey with the Doctor, there’s something burning within him, something that pulses at the barriers just behind his eyes and dances around his periphery, and for the first time in a long time, just being with someone – just being with Ianto – isn’t helping.

He looks out over the familiar Cardiff streets, sees the beginning of the rebirth, little lights winking in and out of the broken places. She is taking care of herself, turning out well, better than she was before, and Jack is truly proud to have made this place, this Rift-stricken net for detritus and debris, his home, the place he chooses to come even when he might be able to travel the universe. And yet, with all the joy building itself up in his heart, something still niggles, something tells him all is not right; all is not well. There is something wrong, and Jack has a sneaking suspicion that the something is wrong with him.

He turns back, looks at Ianto’s peaceful face, slack in the moonlight. He is no fool; he knows how brief and meaningless a single life is in the scheme of the universe, but something within him needs to believe that there’s something to be looked forward to, for all the lucky ones, all the ones who get to finally go home. It’s not often he’s jealous of Ianto, but every now and then Jack wishes he could have just one life, share it with just one person, instead of many.

Share it with Ianto.

It’s a startling notion, one that’s never come to mind before. Never has he named the exact person he wants to grow old and die with, never has he allowed himself to feel that surely about anyone, not in his line of work. It’s too dangerous to place that much trust in anyone but himself, no matter how much he may care for? love? the members of his team. It’s just that Ianto seems to invite it, without judgment, without fear, and that in itself makes Jack believe he might be going about this living forever thing all wrong.

Sheets rustle behind him and soon he can feel Ianto’s hands palming over his chest, Ianto’s mouth on his shoulder. He covers Ianto’s hands with his own, rocking into the warmth, leaning his head back onto Ianto’s shoulder.

“Come back to bed,” Ianto entreats, pressing the words gently into Jack’s skin. “Worry tomorrow. You’re home now.” Jack turns in Ianto’s embrace, places both palms on Ianto’s face, and slowly kisses the upturned mouth, saying with his touch the things he can’t bring himself to speak. Not yet, perhaps not ever. “Please,” Ianto whispers into his mouth, and Jack smiles, lets Ianto lead him back to their rumpled sheets and moonlit pillows. He’ll worry tomorrow, just like Ianto asked, and if he comes to the conclusion that he, in fact, is still wrong – well. At least he’ll have left Ianto with this.


End file.
